House of Cards
by Dance Elle Dance
Summary: Britta isn't sure when she started feeling something change between the two of them, but she really doesn't mind. TroyBritta, set after Origins of Vampire Mythology, oneshot


_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Community._

_**Summary: Britta isn't sure when she started feeling something change between the two of them, but she really doesn't mind. TroyBritta, set after Origins of Vampire Mythology, oneshot**_

_Um. Holy crap, me shipping these two came out of nowhere, and I ship them hard. Thank you so much, season three. Like...oh, man. Anyway! I hope that y'all enjoy this little fic. It's my first attempt at writing a TroyBritta, and I really hope I do them justice. Thanks so much for reading!_

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**House of Cards**

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It might have started with the acting class.

Or the Greendale commercial.

Or The Text.

Or maybe it's just always been there, this strange kind of chemistry the two of them have. Maybe it's just taken her this long to realize what it was and how to react to it.

Britta finds that if she thinks about it too much, it kind of hurts her head.

She sighs a bit, letting her feet swing back and forth from her perch on top of a random picnic table on campus. Her mind is full of thoughts that range from the ludicrous to the mundane, from school to friends to...

To Troy.

She shakes her head slightly, allowing her hair to cloud her vision for the briefest of moments.

Britta thinks it stupid, the way that she feels..._light_ around him. That hasn't happened with anyone before, not like this. All the guys she goes after are bad for her, toxic - well, she supposes Jeff wasn't bad, and neither was Vaughn, tiny nipples aside. Her normal set list of guys include people with names like Blade or tattoos in various odd places of naked women riding dragons or some crazy mess like that.

He's not like the guys she goes after, normally, and it's not a bad thing at all.

Maybe that's why it scares her.

One would think that becoming a psychology major would open up a great big door of understanding about one's own personality and patterns, but Britta finds nothing of the sort has happened with her. If anything, it has made her more confused because she's actually _recognized_ her patterns, and...

Well, that train of thought hurts her head, too.

She leans back, focusing all the weight on the palms of her hands, and tosses her head back, enjoying the sun as it beams down on her. Britta isn't really sure what started these thoughts, but she really doesn't want to think about that, either. Because thinking about what started them means thinking about the actual thoughts more and then it all goes around in some stupid circle and it makes Britta want to scream and punch a trash can.

Greendale students litter the area around her. Britta finds herself watching them despite herself, trying to come up with snarky comments about them just to distance herself from her own problems. If she could really call 'her problems' a problem.

She's not really sure about that, because if Troy is a problem, then the world surely isn't right.

Sighing, Britta leans forward, elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

_Troy most certainly isn't a problem, _the thought floats across her mind without her consent.

Her last class of the day got out about thirty minutes ago. After their group lunch together, Troy had pulled her aside and asked if she wanted to meet him after classes let out. And, despite the fact that her classes ended an hour earlier than Troy's did, she obliged. Really, she couldn't imagine doing otherwise.

The Text - because the event was so significant that it _had _to be capitalized - had ended up changing her entire view of Troy. Certainly, she had known just how sweet he was underneath everything, and they both had their moments over the course of their friendship, but she supposed The Text was the straw that broke the camel's back. But maybe not that way, since The Text was a positive thing and breaking a poor, innocent camel's back certainly is not.

Britta finds that she doesn't mind waiting an extra hour for Troy. She find that, really, in comparison to the other ways her day could have gone, waiting for a friend - who she might feel something more for, but _shh _- is actually pretty nice.

She finds herself tapping her foot. Her boot makes a dull _thud, thud, thud _against the seat of the picnic bench that has served as a footrest the entire time. People have come by, looking at her and trying to shoo her away from her table, but she just stares at them, unconcerned. That very nonchalance is what probably makes them walk in the other direction. She doesn't care so she _must _be badass.

Or something.

The blonde inhales deeply, trying to focus on other things. If she thinks about seeing Troy and what he would possibly want, then she gets nervous. Being nervous around a guy...now that is something completely unlike Britta.

Maybe it's because there's so much to gain - and so much to lose. The slightest misstep and the whole thing - their friendship, the group's dynamic - could come crashing down around them.

"Britta!" a familiar voice calls, and the sound of it causes her heart to misfire.

Turning around to the sound of the voice, Britta catches eyes with Troy, who is grinning ear-to-ear. Abed is no where to be found, and she finds it odd to see Troy without his best friend in tow.

She slides off of the picnic table and turns completely, facing Troy with a soft smile on her face. The smile doesn't feel like it belongs to her, but she finds that she doesn't care.

Troy approaches her, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder as he does so.

"So..." Britta starts.

"So." Troy whistles.

"What did you want to do?" she asks, strangely hesitant. This is new territory. Troy is a friend, but he's also...something else. This isn't like it was with Jeff at all, and she shouldn't have thought otherwise.

"Whatever you want to do," Troy replies, shrugging his shoulders.

That takes Britta aback for a moment. No guy had ever really given her that option before. At least, none of the ones she bothered to hang with.

And she kinda knows what she wants to do, so she doesn't hesitate when she reaches a hand out and clasps one of Troy's.

Troy looks surprised for a moment, and then a grin spreads across his face. "Cool."

"You kinda sound like Abed," Britta points out with a smile. Her fingers squeeze a bit tighter around his. This brings out an idea that she hadn't thought of before. "Wanna go see a movie?"

"Sounds good to me," he agrees. "Which one?"

"Eh," Britta says, and it is her turn to shrug. "A random one. Though, not that stupid Nicholas Sparks movie that just came out."

"Deal," Troy agrees.

And so the two of them walk to her car, hand in hand, a haphazard plan between them.

Britta finds that she can't remember a time she had been happier.

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_**End.**_


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